Alternative Payment
by Surelady
Summary: It was just supposed to be a dinner date at the house of a successful surgeon but little did Sarah realise that she was the one to be served up to some magical Goblin King.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: Just as some background detail, this story is a bit AU in the sense that there is no previous history between Sarah and the Goblin King.

Many thanks to all the lovely fangirls (and some boys) on the JDB Harem (link is in my profile, please come along and join in the fun!) with special mention for Spring McManus, Magical Mischief, and Undergrounddaydreams who each recently gave me the nudge I needed to finally post some of my work. Thanks to all of you for the continuing inspiration and encouragement.

**Disclaimer**: Labyrinth doesn't belong to me. If I were the proud owner of Labyrinth, I would send Jareth round to everyone's house to perform "Magic Dance" for each of you. He may even take requests…. if he's feeling generous.

**Chapter One**

The road outside his house was quiet and illuminated only by the muted glow of the front porch light. Sarah switched off the rattling engine of her beat-up Volvo and took a steadying breath. One of these days her car was going to conk out on her; probably while navigating the crazy traffic on the freeway. Just showing up every day at that crummy cashier job could potentially result in death by mangled car collision, as well as already being slow spiritual death by mind-numbing tedium. At one time, she would have shrugged off this sort of thought in the spirit of optimism. Lately, however, the mere idea of simply keeping her chin up just made Sarah feel queasy in her stomach. She was only twenty-eight years old, yet prospects increasingly looked glum.

Amazing how a wave of panic over the seemingly useless purpose of your life can make you accept dinner dates with fifty year old men. Well, nearly fifty. Tomorrow was Dr Michael MacCormack's birthday, so tonight he was apparently choosing to celebrate the last gasp of his youth, as he put it, in the company of a lovely young woman. Sarah had known Dr MacCormack for a few years now. She always made pleasant small-talk with him at the checkout every week while he purchased his groceries. Their relationship grew friendlier when he discovered her ambitions to be a writer. He eagerly helped her get a collection of short stories printed at his friend's publishing house, even going as far as assisting her with the mountain of paperwork when she signed the publishing rights. Unfortunately, only a small number of copies were printed and the book itself received virtually no PR. Thus it had failed at a commercial level; although one lone review in the _Fantasy Monthly_ magazine had applauded the author's bold and imaginative style. Sarah framed the clipping and hung it proudly above her desk, encouraging herself daily not to give up.

This small success would not have been possible without Dr MacCormack; or Michael now, as he insisted she call him. Therefore one dinner date at his house to celebrate his birthday was hardly asking a lot. Moreover, he was a highly successful surgeon. She knew her parents would have been delighted at the prospect, if she actually kept in regular contact with her parents…

With a smile and a quick touch up of her lipstick, Sarah finally stepped out of the car, adjusted her simple black dress for the millionth time, and made her way up the winding marble front path. In an instant Michael was at the door greeting her with a large smile, ushering her into the front room. He was not a tall man but somehow his status as a renowned surgeon added a few inches to his height. The dark, sensibly trimmed, hair appeared rather dashing with the tints of grey – why was it that things like that could actually improve a man's looks? As he slid the dark raincoat off her shoulders in a gentlemanly fashion, he enquired if she preferred red or white wine. Sarah found it difficult to stomach white wine after one particularly boisterous night in college but felt that red wine was perhaps too intimate for a first date, so she decided to forbear with white. Was this a date? If it was, she couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not. Surely that was a bad sign in and of itself.

"Here we are," Michael proclaimed upon returning with two generous glasses of white wine. Sarah took the glass from his outstretched hand and enjoyed the feel of the cool crystal cupped in her palm.

"So what shall we drink to Mr Almost-old-fuddy-duddy?" She teased.

"Excuse me, but I do believe that's actually '_Dr_ Almost-old-fuddy-duddy' to you." He said flashing a dashing smirk at her, "Why don't we drink to… the future?"

"Yes, to another fifty years! And a happy geriatric ending, complete with comfy sofas and excellent dentures." She grinned, hoping to keep the mood light.

They clinked their glasses and Sarah was once again struck by the latent awkwardness that seemed to permeate the evening. Shaking it off, she allowed herself to be led into the luxurious dinning area for what promised to be a sumptuous meal.

* * *

Scooping the last of her linguini onto her fork, Sarah pushed her now empty plate away with a sigh of contentment. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so well fed, it made her feel much more relaxed. The awkwardness from earlier seemed almost forgotten now as Sarah had spent much of the dinner being thoroughly entertained by Michael's stories from the hospital.

"I mean obviously as a professional, I shouldn't be laughing at my patients' misfortunes. But when you come into hospital because you've managed to get a pogo stick jammed in a… uh, uncomfortable place, then you really have nobody to blame but yourself."

"Well, I can't blame you for finding it funny but I can blame you for choosing to tell me this story while I was eating." Sarah returned with a good-humoured grimace.

"My table talk is perhaps a bit graphic for dinner parties but it's difficult when so much of your life is taken up with the work you do. I still have such a passion for it, though. Knowing that you alone can be the difference between life and death… touching so many lives in such a profound way. It's incredible. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't have been a doctor…" Michael said, suddenly becoming wistful. He smiled and took another sip of wine.

Sarah tried to imagine a life in which she could be so consumed by her work. Writing was not an easy profession, by any means. It had the potential to pervade every facet of one's life; and when inspiration strikes, it can clench the writer's mind in a steely grip that cancels all other day-to-day concerns. Sarah had experienced this before. However, her increasing pessimism about her chosen career had rather dampened the inspiration life had to offer these days. Determined not to allow her train of thought to drift too far into self-pity Sarah decided to keep the conversation in more light-hearted terrain.

"Actually I think it would be difficult for one graphic story to spoil such a lovely meal, anyway. It really is the most delicious linguini I've ever tasted. Dare I push my luck and ask whether there is an equally tasty desert on its way…?" she asked with a hopeful smile.

"Don't worry Sarah; I am fully prepared to deal with your legendary sweet-tooth." Michael stood up from the dinning table and disappeared into the kitchen. He returned some moments later with two plates, each with a slice of thick dark chocolate cake. And not just any ordinary slice of chocolate cake, either; this was the moist, spongy, dripping with warm chocolate sauce, positively mouth-watering variety of chocolate cake. Sarah actually felt her taste-buds dance and sing around her mouth with glee.

"Voila Madame, I've even cut you a slightly bigger slice."

"Oh wait, shouldn't we have put candles in the cake and sing a song first? You don't want to be cheated out of the chance of making a birthday wish."

Michael paused at that but shook his head placing the cake in front of Sarah, "I think I'm probably past that sort of thinking." He said with a slight frown.

"Aw you're never too old for a little bit of magic, is what I say." Sarah smiled, eagerly taking up her spoon to dig into the delicious treat. She didn't notice the look of unease that flashed over Michael's face.

The chocolate cake tasted even better than it looked. That first bite was pure heaven, as it practically melted on Sarah's tongue. She released a sigh of pleasure and beamed happily at Michael, knowing full well that her apparent excitement over a chocolate cake was probably not that of a sensible and mature woman. Then again, Sarah was tired of being a grown-up. Perhaps the age difference between her and Michael was in fact the very thing that allowed her for once to just act like a big kid, instead of worrying about where her life was going.

In a matter of minutes, Sarah had demolished her slice and was greedily scooping up the remnants of the thick chocolate sauce. So preoccupied with her treat and so engrossed in her own thoughts, Sarah hadn't realised that Michael had barely touched his own cake. He was watching her attentively with a steady gaze that could only be described as clinical. Sarah was about to ask him if there was something wrong but curiously couldn't get her mouth to quite form the words. Clearing her throat, she tried once again only to hear her words come out in a series of gurgles and indistinguishable sounds.

_I must have had more wine than I thought… I should probably sit down before I fall over_ – was what she wanted to say. She stood up from the table and realised that she couldn't feel her legs, which caused her to stumble as she tried to take a few steps. Michael was by her side instantly and carefully eased her to the floor. It was at this moment that Sarah ought to have panicked. But strangely, she simply felt listless.

Michael gently angled her head so he could look into her eyes, which she was now struggling to keep open. It seemed odd to her that he didn't say anything or look alarmed in any way by her sudden collapse. The last image Sarah remembered seeing before the darkness consumed her was the glinting rainbow colours of the glass chandelier, hovering behind the darkening outline of Michael's head…

* * *

When had it started raining outside…?

Sarah couldn't recall at what point she had opened her eyes. It felt as though all of her senses were gradually coming back into focus one by one, including her hearing since she was now registering the patter of rain against the windowpane. She blinked once, with great effort. And then blinked again. Something wasn't right.

In a flash, everything materialised in her mind's eye. The drive to Michael's house – it was his birthday. The anticipation. The awkwardness. Making jokes. Telling stories. A delicious meal, yes that's right, and then… desert.

Now she was apparently horizontal, since she had been staring at the shadows on the ceiling for an indeterminate length of time. Sarah attempted to move her right arm in the hopes that would give her a clue as to her present whereabouts. Unfortunately, her arm didn't seem to be working. Nor was her other arm. Or any part of her body; except for her neck. This at least allowed her to expand her periphery vision, as she shifted her head from left to right, taking in the details of the room around her.

It appeared she was in a dark bedroom, illuminated by only one lamp in the corner. This cast enough light onto the double bed Sarah was currently lying on but essentially left the rest of the large room shrouded in blackness.

"I was hoping you might wake up," came Michael's voice as he emerged from nowhere. "You probably won't have the use of your limbs back yet or your voice. This is a perfectly natural side-effect from the particular sedative I gave you. We use it all the time for localised operations."

He leaned over her as he said this, shinning a small torch in her eyes. "Pupils are dilating, that's good." Sarah was struck again with how calm and clinical Michael apparently was, given that his dinner guest had just had a bizarre fainting episode downstairs… And then slowly some of his words began to register in her mind: "sedative… I gave you."

Dear god, the man had drugged her.

Dozens of horrifying scenarios suddenly presented themselves. After all, she had moved to the city to get away from the claustrophobia of living at home, essentially cutting herself off from her parents, telling herself she would meet lots of people and have a whole new life. But in reality, it would probably take quite a long time before anyone actually noticed she was missing. Except for her boss at work, of course. The irony that her dead-end job may be her only hope of survival was not lost on her.

"There's no need to look so worried, Sarah. I'm not going to hurt you or anything messed up like that. This was simply the gentlest means of restraining you." Michael let out a breath he had apparently been holding in. "But I should probably explain."

He stood up from where he had perched himself over the bed and began to pace back and forth in slow measured steps. "I spent weeks studying for that entrance exam for medical college. While most other kids my age were out having a good time, getting drunk at the weekends or obsessing over their boyfriends or girlfriends, I was in my room spending hours reading every medical journal I could get my hands on. Now, I know you're probably thinking 'what a loser' but I kept telling myself that once I had become a success in my chosen career, I would be the one reaping all the benefits."

A wistful smile bloomed across his face. Evidently, it was still a source of pride for Michael that he had indeed achieved a high degree of success. This smile quickly faded, however. "In the end, I didn't pass the entrance exam. I missed it by two per cent – can you believe that? Two lousy per cent. After all that time and energy I had invested, to miss out by such a _tiny_ fraction. It infuriated me. I mean, wouldn't anyone have felt the same?" He sighed and took a moment to collect himself.

Sarah didn't know what any of this had to do with her being drugged. She had never seen Michael so on edge; he was always charming, friendly, and supportive but never agitated or uncertain. Something had clearly roused this long buried bitterness. "I was desperate, you have to understand." He said, finally turning to her again. "And I genuinely believed that after all my hard work, I deserved to go to the best medical school in the country. It wasn't cheating really, when you think about it. I just needed a little help to set me on my way…"

It looked like Michael was deep in thought, searching for the right words. Eventually, he took a deep breath and levelled his gaze with the young woman still immobilised on his bed. "Do you believe in magic, Sarah?"

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. Magic was not a topic she expected an intelligent and respected surgeon to bring up in a conversation such as this. She could only convey her bewilderment by frowning at him in response – not that he was really expecting any response from her in her current state. "I can't even recall how it came about… or what it was I actually said that brought him forth… but I don't doubt his power. I still dream about him… if you can really call them dreams…"

Sarah's confusion had obviously registered with Michael now, as he seemed to come back to himself enough to explain what he meant. "I made a bargain that night, Sarah; the night I received my results. It was the day before my twentieth birthday. Exactly thirty years ago tonight. And now, it's time to pay up."

Suddenly, a rumble of thunder reverberated around the dark bedroom. _As if this situation really needed anymore ominous spectacle_, Sarah thought to herself wryly. However, her attempts at internal humour were merely a shield against the growing dread building in the pit of her stomach. Whatever this "payment" entailed, she was fairly sure it wasn't about money.

"What I need you to understand, Sarah, is that I am _not_ the villain here. This whole situation was not of my making, not really. I was in a desperate state of affairs. I couldn't face the idea of being stuck in my home town working in a job I couldn't care less about, just to make enough money to pay my mortgage and car insurance, then eventually settle down, get married, have kids – and live every day of my life knowing I was meant for something better. Something special, something that actually matters… You understand, don't you? You know what it feels like to be trapped on a course in life you don't want to be on?"

Thinking clearly at all was a bit of a struggle for Sarah at the moment, but she thought she did understand. But why should that automatically entail her being drugged and manhandled against her will?

"I mean really, when you think about it, your sacrifice will probably save lives. I still have so much more to give. If I were to suddenly go missing tomorrow I would be letting down a lot of people who are counting on me. So you see, it's not just for _my_ benefit." It seemed that Michael was not only trying to convince Sarah of whatever enterprise he was about to embark upon, he was also trying to convince himself that his actions weren't unscrupulous. However, Sarah couldn't register the nuances of his speech, since she was drifting between opposite states of panic and haziness, as the drug continued to affect her mind.

"I just wish…"

But Michael was never to complete this train of thought. The clock on his mantelpiece had begun to chime the hour. If Sarah thought Michael looked agitated before, he now all but leapt out of his skin, which swiftly turned a pallid grey colour. "It's midnight… oh god, oh god…"

They both listened to the chimes ring out in their steady and relentless rhythm, indifferent to the distress they were causing. Even Sarah, who still didn't really understand what was going on, knew that something important was about to transpire. And judging by the way Michael was currently frozen in place, holding his breath in his suddenly seized and tightened chest, it wasn't going to be anything good.

The last chime left a hushed silence in its wake.

Several moments passed…

And nothing happened.

Eventually, Michael allowed his eyes to close and let out his breath in a long whoosh. The tension was beginning to ease out of his body and a smile of relief almost made it onto his face when –

"Good evening, Michael." There in the blackest shadows a shape detached itself, as if it had always been there. It took a few steps forward and suddenly became a man. But it was only a "man" in the sense that it was the most approximate description one could make of it.

Sarah didn't have a very clear view of him but it was obvious that this was the man who was the source of Michael's anxiety. The figure was swathed in black with a high collar that framed a razor sharp face, brittle as ice in its complexion, and crowned with a mane of silver blonde hair. His regal posture commanded the space around him, bending the very air to his whim. The atmosphere had shifted as if to accommodate its new arrival and power seemed to ooze from him like a geyser.

No wonder Michael's mouth was currently flapping up and down like a flabbergasted fish.

"You're not too disappointed to see me again, are you my dear Michael? Or should I say _Dr_ MacCormack?" Still no response was forthcoming from the man who had always appeared so impressive to Sarah in his stature as a celebrated surgeon. Now he was all but shrinking into himself as he tried to process the situation that was unfolding in front of his eyes and the impossibility of the being that stood only a few feet away from him.

"I've watched your career with interest," the rich and musical voice continued undeterred, "what a remarkable achievement, and such a transformation from the snivelling self-pity of a young boy who was denied a coveted toy." The smile that wasn't a smile glinted from the shadows.

This taunt apparently did the trick, as Michael's voice abruptly resurfaced. "Listen, I know why you're here but if you just wait a minute while I – "

"I've waited thirty years, mortal" the dark figure interrupted sharply, "I will not wait any longer. You've had plenty of time to tidy up the remnants of your dreary life. It's time we should be going." The indulgent patience of their new guest was evidently over, as he stretched out his hand towards Michael, who stepped forward seemingly against his will.

"No, you don't understand," Michael said, "I have something even better to trade with."

Laughter drifted over the tense silence but did not shatter the taut atmosphere. "Not even all the riches and sparkly pieces of rock you call jewels will save you now, my dear doctor. What I require are living mortal dreams. This necessitates your accompanying me underground to my kingdom, where you shall live out the rest of your days as one of my subjects. That was our agreement." The man-like apparition leaned forward, "You're not reneging on our contract… are you?"

"N-no, no, that's not what I meant – "

"Good. Then there's no point standing on ceremony, let us be going." Again he held out his hand.

However, Michael squared his shoulders, attempting to stand just a little taller, as he determinedly stared down the intimidating figure. "But is it really _my_ mortal dreams you want, Goblin King?"

Whether it was the use of his formal title – _what the hell is a Goblin King?_ – or the sudden question posed to him, the creature withdrew his hand and silently indicated that Michael should continue. "I mean, what good are the mortal dreams of a fifty year old surgeon? When you could have the dreams of a bright young woman instead…"

Michael pointedly turned towards the bed behind him and it was at that precise moment that the Goblin King first laid eyes on Sarah. That sharp pale face amidst the backdrop of black and shadow was now directed towards her, and she felt the impression of his gaze on her like a brand. Even in the hazy condition of her mind, Sarah could feel the air compressing between her prone body and his as it glided towards her like a dark spectre. He took her in from head to toe in one long sweep but returned his focus to her face, making her wonder what it was he found there that piqued his interest. For piqued his interest was.

"She's a writer, you know," came Michael's voice of encouragement from behind him, "she writes fantasy stories and has the most marvellous imagination. I remember when I first read some of her work; it was quite breath-taking, the stunning use of imagery." Echoed back to her now were almost the very words Sarah had heard Michael use to endorse her work to the publishing house all those months ago. The sting of betrayal was too blunt for her not to feel the bite, even whilst half-conscious with the drugs he had fed to her himself. It did not go unnoticed by the Goblin King.

"Her dreams are bound to be much more valuable to you than mine." Michael continued with confidence.

"Indeed," was the quiet reply, "let's see shall we."

A black leather hand descended towards her forehead and touched her so lightly between her brows that Sarah would have sworn no actual contact was made. But it was evident that the Goblin King felt the contact from the manner in which he let his eyes shutter closed and the way his breathing became more concentrated, as though he were inhaling the aroma of a fine wine. Abruptly he opened his eyes again and fixed her with a glittering gaze. "Yes… stunning," he husked softly.

The hand that had touched her on the forehead now slipped down to caress her cheek, as though it had given into a heady impulse on its own. Sarah was overwhelmed by the gentleness of his touch. This creature, the mere memory of which had literally haunted and terrified a grown man into offering up another human being like a sacrificial lamb, was regarding her now with the same awe and reverence as a delicate piece of exquisite art. His fingers brushed back and forth across her soft cheek and then slid down to lovingly trace the line of her jaw. As they curved around her chin, Sarah felt his finger faintly graze the underside of her lower lip, as though hesitant to touch it outright.

"How very cunning of you, Dr MacCormack, to dangle such a lovely thing in front of me; no doubt, in the hopes that I will give into temptation and simply allow you to walk free." The Goblin King turned to Michael then and must have seared the man with the coldest of stares, for the previously confident doctor visibly shuddered under its intensity. "But unfortunately for you, I cannot take this mortal with me in your place; even if I preferred it to be so."

"B-b-but – but you can!"

"Oh I do apologise," the Goblin King sneered, without the slightest tone of apology, "I didn't realise you were once the master of the Underground yourself and are therefore best placed to correct me on my sovereign duty."

"No, no! What I mean to say is – is consent! You're talking about consent, right?"

Sarah couldn't see the Goblin King's face, as his back was currently turned to her, but she could tell from the way he paused that he was carefully considering Michael's words. "Yes… a mortal's consent is required before I may take them underground…"

Michael suddenly moved towards his desk. He retrieved a thick document and began frantically flicking to a page in the middle as he brought it to the Goblin King's side. "This is the contract that was drawn up for the publishing rights to her collection of short stories. If you'll take a look here at, uh… where is it… yes – here at Section 68, subsection (e), subsection (4), you'll see that she's already given consent."

Sarah frowned as she groggily tried to process this new information. What on earth was he talking about? Nevertheless, the Goblin King began to read aloud the indicated section. "The licensee hereby gives leave and full consent that they, whether or not previously advised or forewarned, and without prejudice, notwithstanding any external and unforeseeable circumstances, will be offered as an alternative payment to the monarch of the underground kingdom."

The wheels in Sarah's head began slowly grinding into place. She recalled that weekend she spent with Michael, in this very house, surrounded by document after document that had to be read through and meticulously filled out. How helpful he had been, printing off copies of the contract as they were emailed back and forth between the parties. How he had reassured her that his friend, who was a well established lawyer, had read through the final contract to ensure everything was fine. She had read through the lengthy boring thing herself even. How could it be that such a thing would get missed?

And then she remembered – hadn't he printed out an extra copy of the contract for her to sign? "Just in case", he'd said. A perfect opportunity to quickly cut and paste in an extra clause buried within the volume of legal jargon. The feeling of betrayal washed over Sarah again and again like crashing waves hammering the shoreline.

"And this document has been willingly signed by her own hand?" The Goblin King questioned, upon which Michael flipped first to a page near the front and then a page at the back.

"Twice." He said with a smile of triumph. Sarah saw the Goblin King's head again level itself towards the other man, who's face promptly rearranged itself into a more sombre and diminutive expression, apparently sufficiently chastised.

"Hm, and with such miniscule writing as this, even an intelligent girl would likely overlook a detail so small." It sounded almost like reluctant praise for the man's skill of deception. Handing the bulky document back, the Goblin King then turned and paced a few slow steps, clearly considering something in his mind. Meanwhile, Michael stood as a man awaiting a life sentence to be passed upon him, which wasn't far from the truth.

"Traditionally," the dark king began in a conversational way, "consent from a mortal should be given directly to me… But there is nothing that prevents a mortal from, shall we say, sub-contracting another mortal into taking their place. There have been monarchs before my time who would accept the offer of another willing to go in the place of their loved one, and without anything so formal as a written contract… I myself have accepted such offers."

The Goblin King once again fixed his magnetic gaze upon Sarah. "And a good monarch must always do what is most beneficial for his kingdom…"

The silence lengthened to an unfathomable degree, though in reality only a few seconds had gone by. It was clear the king of the Underground had already made his decision. "Very well, Dr MacCormack, I shall accept your alternative payment in lieu of your own mortal dreams." Michael's entire frame visibly slumped in immense relief and he rubbed a hand over his face. He looked as though he had aged ten years in only the last twenty minutes.

"Our contract," the Goblin King continued, "is now complete."

"Yes, I understand." Michael said distractedly, breathing heavily as if he had just finished running marathon.

"Oh do you?" The smile glinted at him once again. "So you understand that from this moment onwards, you shall no longer enjoy the benefit of my influence in your career?"

This was met with a nervous pause; then Michael let out a gusty exhalation of air, which was probably meant to have been a laugh. "I know what you're trying to do, ok? Y-you just enjoy scaring me, I get it. But we both know that your only influence, as you call it, was to get me into the medical school I wanted so I could become a successful doctor. Just like I always dreamed of being."

The glinted smile became a glittering grin. "Your memory does you poor service, my dear Dr MacCormack. Our exact agreement was, in fact, that I help you become a success in your chosen profession. Now, if that assistance required your acceptance into that pompous medical institution, then that's what I contrived to happen." Michael's face was turning a greyish tint again as the pitilessly gleeful words were absorbed one by one. "Did you never wonder at the ease with which you were welcomed into important circles? Or how smoothly your hospital ward always operates? Or the good fortune of winning a place on the board of directors? Even when faced with such fierce competition?"

Michael looked for moment as though he wanted to object, to protest that surely all of that was down to his own hard work and dedication. But the Goblin King anticipated this response. "Cheating, you'll find, can be very easily accommodated with; if one is able to justify it for a noble cause."

And so it was that in that shadowy bedroom, caught under the brittle glare of a truly apathetic creature, a grown man saw his own life reflected back to him – and began to quietly cry.

"Happy birthday, Michael" the Goblin King said with sincerity.

Having concluded his business with the other man, the dark figure then turned to retrieve the young woman who lay before him like a ripe offering. All this time she had been in a trance-like state, only observing passively what was happening to her. Now that Sarah could feel warm arms slide carefully under her shoulders and behind her knees, reality suddenly set in and with it a rush of panic. Since she was unable to voice her distress, she began breathing forcefully and thrashing her body as much as she was able, even if it wasn't very much at all. However, the Goblin King sensed her latent terror and cradled her close to his chest. Once her head was tucked under his chin, he turned his face down to whisper softly to her, unconsciously brushing his lips against her forehead. "Shh… calm yourself, precious thing. I mean you no harm."

Held so intimately within his arms, Sarah could smell the magical spice of his scent. She felt saturated by it; like bathing in the hot fragrance of an incense burner. Once again the unexpected juxtaposition of a creature seemingly so cruel and unfeeling to have such an intoxicating embrace was overwhelming for Sarah. She tried to ignore the steady beat of his heart pressed close to her side but didn't seem to notice that she had long since ceased her struggles to escape.

His quarry safely secured, the Goblin King swept across the dimly lit bedroom towards the dark corner from which he had sprung forth only a short time ago. The air seemed to part like a veil before them and Sarah felt only the slightest brush against her skin as he strode into another world.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: As always, many thanks to all the lovely gals on the JDB Harem (link is in my profile). Your continuing inspiration and encouragement is invaluable. And particular thanks to all those who incessantly nagged and prodded me to get chapter 2 posted. You know who you are ;)

As an additional note, I should probably have highlighted that I am a Brit and therefore subject to the Queen's English in my spelling preferences. So if something looks oddly mis-spelled, it's probably deliberate (at least, it should be at any rate).

**Disclaimer**: Labyrinth is not mine *sighs despondently*

**Chapter Two**

Sarah stared at the gently swaying branches of the tree above her and squinted against the streaming sunlight. She wondered how long she had been lying there, before the clarity of consciousness had swept her mind clear of delusion. The hazy dreams that had so beleaguered her previously had evaporated, it seemed. She was definitely awake now; but strangely, she felt very warm and comfortable in her current position. Wherever that current position happened to be.

Sarah tried to recall how she had ended up falling asleep under a tree. She remembered that bedroom… and the dark figure who took her from it. She remembered the feel of his powerful arms as he carried her... His intoxicating aroma, lingering even now on the air… Then she had heard the soothing tone of his voice as he began to hum a gentle tune against the top of her head... the brush of his lips perhaps?... That was when she closed her eyes, to better experience the sensations of his song whilst clutched to his warm chest. She must have fallen asleep… and he'd placed her here.

Slowly easing herself onto her elbows, she attempted to take in her surroundings. It appeared she was in a small grove nestled in the midst of a remarkable dense forest. Lush greenery exploded in abundant shades from all sides of her vision, the air thick with saccharine fragrances and musical notes from unseen wildlife. Leaves and fuming rills cast spots of dappled lights, delicately dispersed, and the shrill sweet song of birds could be heard from every bough. Sarah took a deep breath and practically felt the very richness of the air pour into her, every nuance of her body shuddering softly with delight.

_Was everything last night a dream? Am I still dreaming?_ But even as she considered this possibility, she dismissed it. Everything felt too intense and tangible to be a mere dream. Even the thick blades of soft grass her hand was absently stroking felt so real under her touch. This must be the Goblin King's realm that he had spoken of.

The realm she was to live in now.

Confusion, panic, and resentment rushed through her all at once and for a moment Sarah found it difficult to latch onto one definite emotion. So she settled for anger.

_How could Michael do this to me? I mean, he probably had no idea what the Underground would be like or where I would end up. This place could be really dangerous, for all he knows. What if I get eaten by some wild animal?_

Sarah suddenly heightened her senses as if she might detect a predator stalking her at that very moment. In reality, however, the forest was so stunning in its beauty that there really wasn't any apparent danger or even the suggestion of danger. Had she actually taken the time to properly absorb her current surroundings, she might have noted that the large gnarled tree she lay under had its branches arrayed in a rather sheltering fashion.

Instead, Sarah channelled her anger and used it as momentum to propel herself from the cosy spot the Goblin King had apparently chosen to deposit her in. She had no intention of appearing in any way co-operative by staying put. Unfortunately, she miscalculated how sturdy her legs would be and wobbled jerkily as she tried to stay upright. Before she could topple backwards, however, something hard steadied her from behind, giving her time to regain her balance. Sarah stepped away from the support and glanced behind her – only to see a thick tree branch. She stared at it incomprehensibly until she watched it slowly ascend back up into the tree to align itself once more with the rest of the twisting branches.

_The tree moves… Holy crap, the tree is alive!_

Instinctively, she jerked backwards a few paces. The tree only rustled at her as though chuckling in amusement. Sarah frowned, reminding herself that trees were not alive – in the sentient sense, at least – and definitely did not chuckle at hapless human girls. Yet the evidence seemingly pointed to the contrary. She would have thought that all her years of reading and even writing fantasy stories, describing extraordinary worlds of magic and adventure, would have equipped her to deal with being suddenly transported to one. Apparently, when one is presented with the implausible situation of a conscious living plant, one is left rather nonplussed regardless. And it was mocking her as well.

Sarah huffed indignantly and began to stride away from the tree, only to realise that the actual "striding" was made difficult by her black high heels sinking into the soft grass with every step. Releasing a sudden high-pitched squeal of frustration, Sarah yanked the useless shoes from her feet and tossed them away as hard as she could. Unfortunately, one of them struck the base of the implausibly sentient tree. When Sarah began to stomp away again, she suddenly found herself face-down on the ground, having caught her foot on one of the tree's roots that she was sure had not been sticking out quite so much a moment ago. Her suspicion was confirmed upon hearing a familiar chuckling rustle of leaves.

"Oh, that was mature." Sarah said, instantly chiding herself for actually talking to the tree, while dusting dirt off her nice evening dress. In reply, it pointed one of its crooked branches at her, indicating that it thought even less of her behaviour.

"Uh! I just got betrayed by someone who was supposed to be my friend and kidnapped by a Goblin King! What do you expect?" The tree rolled in one circular rotation clockwise, a gesture clearly designed to be the equivalent of an eye-roll.

"Oh I get it, you probably think I'm being a drama-queen, huh?" The tree tilted back and forward, nodding. Sarah was suddenly reminded of similar conversations she'd had with her stepmother, which was enough of an eerie feeling to prompt her swift departure. However, not wanting the tree to think it had won the argument, she left it with a final parting shot.

"Well, when I want advice on the appropriate etiquette of a kidnapped damsel, you can bet your branches I won't be asking a tree. Especially not a tree who, as it happens, is in absolutely no danger of being kidnapped by Goblin Kings." She spun around and headed directly away from her strange companion, feeling quite satisfied, only to once again hear its chuckling rustle noise behind her. Deciding to pretend she hadn't heard anything, Sarah kept up her brisk determined pace.

* * *

After what felt like several hours later, Sarah eventually decided to sit down. The purposeful striding had only gotten her to a part of the forest that looked frustratingly similar to the one she had started out in. She reached down to massage her now dirty feet and pondered her next course of action.

Did the Goblin King expect her to wander around like this indefinitely? The scenery was of course breathtakingly beautiful, but she couldn't just spend all her time marvelling at it. Sarah raked her memory, she was sure there was a purpose to her being here – other than allowing Michael-scumbag-McCormack off the hook – something that the Goblin King wanted from her… Yes, that was right. He wanted her "mortal dreams".

_Ok, and that means… what exactly?_

Perhaps it was his intention for her to remain lying underneath that obnoxious tree? Simply spending the rest of her days in dream-like repose? Although the idea might have had some novelty to it, ultimately Sarah considered it to be a massive waste of time. Not to mention boring. But what else could be meant by "mortal dreams"?

Absently, her eyes flicked to one side - and abruptly her attention was arrested by a peculiar sight. There, sprouting out of a withered tree stump, was a rose bush. Covered with lustrous blooming petals that were the most iridescent shade of blue she had ever seen, Sarah compulsively scrubbed at her drowsy eyes to better take in the sight. She gazed at it in awe before moving closer, crouching down, and reverently reaching out a hand to gently touch a particularly attractive rosebud. It smelled wonderful; fresh and vibrant and achingly beautiful. As she continued to admire the strange and wondrously lovely blue petals, Sarah was suddenly struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu…

"Oh, pretty flowers… pretty girly person…" said a voice that floated into her hearing, speaking as though in conversation with itself. Sarah turned her head from where she had crouched in front of the magnificent blue rose bush and saw a squat, yet oddly spindle framed, creature. Vaguely human-like in appearance, it wore an unremarkable leather garment and had arms and legs that looked too long for it, coupled with an innocuous pale face. Its gait suggested one who took care to assess a situation before deciding to enter upon it, as the slight figure approached her in fractionally short tip-toes.

"Um, hello," Sarah said as she got to her feet, upturning the corners of her mouth in what she hoped was a friendly smile. She suddenly wondered what the appropriate etiquette was in greeting other-worldly creatures. Other than accidently throwing shoes at them in a fit of temper of course…

"Ah, lovely… yes," the creature muttered to itself quietly, its rather large eyes making only the slightest of movements up and down, unblinking, as though performing a mental scan of the tableau she presented.

"Excuse me, mister," Sarah said firmly, abruptly abandoning any qualms about etiquette, "I don't really appreciate being stared at, ok? Who are you?"

"Oh, of course, yes… manners required. I am a simple wanderer, alone out here, picking my way through this ghastly kingdom." The creature said this last with a quick furtive look from side to side. "You may call me Wiggins, lovely girly." This introduction was followed by an outbreak of what constituted a smile on its pale face. Sarah couldn't help but think the effort was wasted on such a creepy looking thing.

"Well, uh, nice to meet you Mr Wiggins, my name is–"

"Oh, haha! No, no, not a 'Mr' or any such fancy, no, no indeed."

"Ok, just Wiggins then. But what do you mean by 'this kingdom'? Does that mean that there are other places besides this one?"

"Other places…Well, yes that seems like sense speak to me." It sounded as if it had only just pondered this question for the very first time.

"So, there must be a way out of here, right? Maybe even a way for me to get back home?"

"Not sure I've ever heard of a place called 'home', but yes, girly can go home, she can come with me, I knows where to go from here." It maintained its blank expression, even with the smile, but the large eyes seemed to gleam a bit more than was needed.

"I can't believe this, this is great! Ok, so do you know how to get to a place called Seattle? Or America, even? Or maybe just a place that would let me travel onto somewhere like that?"

"I can go to any place I like, anytime I like." Wiggins responded, as though rhyming off a well known slogan.

"Really? Wow, it must be amazing to have that kind of freedom."

It frowned slightly, apparently not recognising the word 'freedom', but nodded along anyway in the spirit of agreement. "I can do whatever I like, and be whatever I like."

Sarah smiled a little despondently. "I used to feel that way once about my life."

"I'm always on the look-out for something better. Why live only the one kind of life when you could have many different ones?" Wiggins' speech increasingly took on an air of confidence that hadn't been present before, though Sarah didn't notice.

"You're right, that's so true. Lately, I've been feeling depressed with life." Sarah abruptly felt an overwhelming compulsion to open up to this strange figure, despite having just met him. "It's like I'm stuck in one place, you know? I thought that if I went after my dream, if I made that my goal, then nothing could stop me. How could it be the wrong choice if it's my dream? Yet that's how it feels sometimes. Like I've went down a wrong path or something. You work so hard to get somewhere, but at a certain point you have to wonder, when does 'hard work' really translate into 'it's not meant to be' and whose to say when you've reached that point? Maybe some people just aren't meant to have their dreams."

Sarah turned back to her companion, realising that she had been gazing at those beautiful blue roses as she spoke, only to jump with surprise when she noticed Wiggins had moved closer, its eyes fixed intently upon her.

_He's obviously just a very eager listener..._

_Wow... those eyes never blink, do they?_

Sarah shook off any feelings of unease, feeling compelled to reason with herself that such a benign looking creature couldn't feasibly be dangerous. He was no doubt lonely from traveling on his own all the time. This thought inspired an inexplicable notion of kinship with this fellow lone traveler. Strange, too, since she had been unnerved by his creepy appearance before... Yet her brain continued to prompt her that he seemed harmless.

"So, would the girl like to come with me? I can take her anywhere she wants to go?" The voice was softer, tonally deeper, almost feminine sounding... and familiar to her.

"Yes..." Sarah heard herself say, blankly, "that would be... lovely."

Wiggins' eyes gleamed like sapphires, and a thin hand extended towards her.

She blinked, absently. Then reached her own hand out to meet his mid-air...

Only to have it snatched by an iron-clad fist incased in polished black leather.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you."

Sarah dizzily shook her head, hearing, but not understanding, the sybaritic voice that sailed over her senses. Still gripping her hand, the majestic interloper focused his attention on the other party, his words turning to silky steel.

"And what have we here? I didn't realise my kingdom was an open free-for-all for abhorrent gutter-trash like you." This was not a rhetorical supposition; and the lesser creature literally shriveled to almost half its size.

"No, no... No offense intended, not at all... I wasn't aware - how could I know...?" It simpered, doing everything in its power to portray a state of innocence.

A contemptuous stare was all the reply Wiggins received. The creature was evidently beneath the notice of the eminent King of the Goblins, who carefully affected the appearance of aloof disdain as he conjured a smooth crystal in his other hand. Wiggins' eyes bulged in sheer terror at the sight of it.

The Goblin King uttered a phrase and propelled his crystalline missile, hitting the target square in the face, vaporising it like sand.

A moment of silence descended upon the pair – neither moving an inch – as Sarah slowly comprehended the fact that she had just witnessed the killing of a creature she was only a moment ago chatting with pleasantly.

_Except, I wasn't. It tried to do something to me against my will... made me feel defenseless and weak... just like Michael._

Anger swiftly superseded the burgeoning feelings of fright. Without warning, Sarah tore her hand out of the Goblin King's grasp and began battering him with every ounce of strength she possessed. This carried on for awhile, as he apparently felt no compulsion to block her attack, much less put a stop to it. Neither did he endure the bombardment as though it were an ordeal or even an inconvenience. He merely watched the young woman thrash against him, panting appealingly with the exertion of it.

"I don't believe I'm the one you're mad with," he remarked pointedly. Sarah abruptly ceased her efforts to stare at him incredulously. "And I shall not pretend any nobleness and accept the blame where it so justly rests on the doctor's shoulders. I am fair-minded to a fault, you know."

"Don't you dare!" she wheezed harshly, out of breath from the rather ineffectual beating. "Don't you even _try_ to load all the blame on him! You know as well as I do that you didn't have to take that _bastard_ up on his offer!"

"Oh dear, to have waited with bated breath to hear your lovely voice for the very first time, only to have the special moment sullied with such foul language." He sighed histrionically.

Sarah felt like screaming. The absolute gall of this man - this _creature_ - to treat her situation so flippantly. Instead she asked, "What was that... thing, anyway? I hardly even knew what was happening, before..." She didn't allow herself to finish.

"It was a Boroa," he said with an undisguised note of disgust.

"Ok," shaking her head, "and what exactly _is_ a Bor-row-a..?"

"Boroa," he corrected. "In your language, it is simply another word for 'eat', but more generally, I suppose, it means 'consumer'. That is its function. It sees something it likes, and then seeks to become that very thing by subsuming it into its form. Perhaps you noticed that it began to mimic you in some way? Or began to utter things it thought you might want to hear?"

Sarah frowned, thinking back to her conversation with Wiggins, and had to admit that the Goblin King's description was accurate. She shivered with the memory.

"If I had touched his hand..."

"You would have been incorporated into its form. It's how the Boroa survives. And by the looks of the skinny cretin, it hadn't been able to assume a new form for quite awhile. They are rather repugnant little wretches, and most certainly not welcome in my kingdom."

Harmless little creature, indeed, her mind scoffed at her previous conclusions, even if they were probably a side-effect of the horrid thing's enchantment. Yet some ingrained notion of mercy compelled her to ask, "Was it really necessary to kill him?"

The Goblin King waved this aside with an elegant motion of his hand. "Rather than be drawn into an inefficacious debate on the differences of our moral perspectives, I believe proper introductions are in order." He paused and drew in a breath, perhaps for emphasis more than necessity. "I, am the Goblin King, ruler of the Underground and safe-keeper of the gate between realms, but you, may call me Jareth, if it pleases you." At this he extended his hand to her, much in the manner that Wiggins had done, and didn't fail to quirk a brow to mock the obvious associations she would infer.

As expected, she gave him a dubious look, so he couldn't resist adding, "And you already know of course, from your previous battery upon my person, that it's safe to touch me as much as you like."

Sarah didn't pay particular attention to the suggestive words or the charming smile that was offered to her. Instead, she was distracted by taking note, for the first time, of the change to his appearance. Gone was the facade of glacial darkness, shrouded about him like a heavy drape, and in its place was a refined, stately figure, curiously not out-of-place in the midst of a wild forest. Every inch of him still projected his royal lineage, yet now it was patently visible he was a king luxuriating within his own kingdom.

_And check out the Mick Jagger fetish with those pants..._

Scalded by that train of thought, Sarah's eyes instantly snapped back to his face, which she now realised had beguiling enhancements, making the eyebrows appear to sweep up at an angle from his oddly mis-matched eyes. Unbeknownst to her, those simmering eyes took in every nuance of her expressions, deciphering them as if they were a simple child's riddle.

"It is customary to now offer your own name in return," the man called Jareth prompted her, still with his hand extended expectantly.

Collecting herself, Sarah defiantly raised her chin a few notches. "I think I've learned my lesson about accepting offers of friendship from seemingly harmless men."

He lowered his hand, but his smile morphed into a teasing grin. "I seem harmless to you, do I?"

Of course it would be an utter fallacy to in any way confirm that particular charge, so to mask her error she said, "Well, you're obviously trying to appear that way to me now, aren't you? With all your fancy words and heroically coming to my rescue at just the right time."

"Ah, so you did notice," he said, with genuine pleasure. "It's gratifying to know my efforts at gallantry are not entirely wasted."

"I wouldn't need any rescuing if you hadn't kidnapped me and brought me here in the first place."

"I didn't kidnap you, my dear. You were offered to me and I merely accepted; most others would have done the same." He articulated this point with no more animation than if he were remarking on the weather.

_Un-believable._ "Or, you could have held up your original bargain and taken Michael instead. What's so impossible with that concept?"

"Not impossible, simply improvident," was the economical reply.

Losing patience arguing, Sarah decided to get straight to her point. "Look, I don't really care what your reasons are for taking me. All I want is for you to send me back where I belong."

The courteous smile faded from his face. "That I cannot do," he said with simple finality.

"Why not?"

"Well, I would explain it to you but, alas, it would require an understanding of my reasons for 'kidnapping' you in the first place, and you've already stipulated your lack of interest in that subject." He lifted his shoulders in a delicate shrug, as though the matter was completely out of his hands, but didn't quite manage to hide his smirk.

"Argh! Fine then, tell me. Why did you take me and not Michael?"

The Goblin King regarded her for an extended moment, apparently calculating his next response. "Suffice it to say, you're a special case."

"Oh I'm special, am I?" she replied, her frustration now palpable. "Special enough for you to abandon me in the middle of some forest?"

"You were supposed to stay with the Vaktare. I assigned it the job of watching out for you."

"The what? You can't mean that tree-thing?"

"Indeed, I do."

"How the hell is a _tree_ supposed to protect me? It's pretty much stuck in the one spot, isn't it. A fat lot of good it would do me if I were being chased by some rabid animal trying to eat me. And besides," Sarah fidgeted, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous, "I think it was making fun of me…"

The Goblin King smiled knowingly. Sarah cast her eyes away and missed the manner in which he let his gaze touch upon the pout that her mouth had unconsciously formed. "It is not bound to only one form, my dear; although a tree is its preferred appearance," he explained, turning to pace away from her. "Being as it is magical, and all that, it can use its natural root system to create a network to various sites all over the Underground."

"Like a spy network?"

"Amongst other things," he murmured, leaning against a tree.

"Great. So not only am I trapped in a magical land, which I'm apparently not allowed to leave, you've got this secret agent tree-spirit thingy watching my every move."

"Oh come now," he laughed sharply, "why would I waste the Vaktare's time doing anything as mundane as watching you all the time?"

Sarah had the feeling she ought to retort to this but from the amused expression on her antagonist's face she felt inexplicably like all the wind had been blown out of her sails. She didn't have any reason to think the Goblin King would go to the effort of having her under constant surveillance, did she? And ultimately, did it really matter to her?

With no ready response to give him, the pair lapsed into silence; he remained in his position, lounging regally against the side of a tree, and Sarah, finally coming down from the high of her temper, was unexpectedly struck with a feeling of awkwardness. Perhaps it was due to the quiet, contemplative expression on his face. For all the world, he appeared perfectly content to continue staring at her, waiting to hear whatever she might say next. It was very unnerving for a reason she couldn't quite define.

"Well," she began, trying to sound casual, "I guess you have stuff to do. Being king of the jungle, or whatever."

"And your king now," he pointed out, with a little smile.

That got her attention.

"Woa, woa, woa. Let's get something straight, here. I'm an American. I don't have a king. So if you expect me to start bowing to you or addressing you as 'your majesty' at the end of every sentence, then you can go kidnap yourself another girl, ok?"

"I think I'm set with the one I have. And I've already told you to call me Jareth. It's my given name, you know. Quite the honour, in fact, for you to even be privy to it." There was no mistaking the subtle hint to his tone.

Sarah couldn't keep the incredulous gust of laughter from escaping her throat. "What do you want, a groveling thank you ever-so, you wonderfully magnanimous man, speech?"

"Just your name will suffice in this instance. You still haven't told me." His face maintained a determinedly nonchalant expression.

That's when it occurred to her how much he really wanted to know her name. She remembered reading something about certain magical creatures placing great importance on names. Weren't there supposedly powerful properties to them? Or some kind of influence that could be wielded against the other person?

These were all very rational reasons as to why it would be prudent for Sarah to keep her real name from the Goblin King. However, if she were being truly honest with herself, she mainly derived secret satisfaction out of thwarting him, even if she realised it was a rather petty means of revenge.

"It's Joanne," she said, speaking the first random girl's name that came to mind.

That amused little smile was back on his face. "You're not a very good liar. But that adds to your charm."

"Think of it as a nickname," she said, with an impertinent smirk of her own.

"Aren't nicknames supposed to be supplied by other people?"

"Suffice it say, I'm a special case." It felt good to throw his own irritating words back in his face.

"I'm happy to come up with a few for you, if you like..." was his murmured reply.

"Oh, let me guess, it'll be something like 'minion' or 'peasant' or maybe even 'serf'?"

He openly laughed in response, and Sarah did not allow her brain to acknowledge how much his laughter improved his appearance. In one fluid motion, he pushed off from the tree he had been casually leaning against and moved towards her in unhurried, measured strides. She commanded her body to not give into the impulse to step back; in much the same way as one would refrain from flinching in front of a pernicious predator.

"I can already tell that you're going to be a lot of trouble." He didn't seem upset by this revelation.

"My fifth grade teacher said the same thing," she said quietly, appearing not the least bit intimidated by the fact that there was now only a few inches of space separating them.

"And was your teacher correct in their assessment?" His voice had dropped to the susurrous tone of a whisper.

Determined not to back down, Sarah leaned in another fraction, her eyes boldly fixed to his. "Absolutely." _Don't blink don't blink don't blink_

The Goblin King's expression transfigured subtly into one of gratification, as though somewhere in the subtext of their exchange he had just satisfied his own private query. He drew in a deep, savouring breath, outwardly giving the impression that he might be about to say something else, but instead, slowly retreated one pace backwards, all the while twinkling his peculiar otherworldly eyes.

"Perhaps then I would be justified in keeping you locked up in my dungeons - for your own benefit, as much as mine." He had reverted to his neutral brand of teasing, shattering whatever moment had just occurred between them.

"Did you say dungeons? Like the kind that come with castles?"

"I don't believe dungeons necessarily require the presence of a castle, although in this particular case my dungeons do happen to have that distinction."

"You live... in a castle?" Sarah tried her best not to sound too excited. "Wait - what am I thinking - of _course_ you live in a castle. After all, we can't have the king roughing it in the woods with the rest of us commoners." She said this swinging her arm around to indicate the surrounding terrain.

He grinned. "If you're angling for an invite to stay with me in my castle, I'm sure I could arrange something..."

"Ha! And enjoy pleasant conversations like this one, every, single, day?" She mocked gasped for effect. "No thank you. I think I'll take my chances with the rabid animals."

"You keep referring to these 'rabid animals', I can assure you that the majority of my subjects are not in any way diseased, or prone to carnivorous intent. And even if they were, they would not eat _you_."

"What, am I not tasty enough for them?" She inquired sardonically.

He pointedly refrained from comment.

"And why should I take your word for it, anyway?" She continued, blithely disregarding his taciturnity. "You'd probably get a laugh out of watching me get eaten. It could be part of the kingdom's national sport, for all I know. 'Watch the new girl get brutally devoured - free popcorn on offer with every drink purchase'."

"Well, if the word of a king isn't reassuring enough for you, let me put it this way - I am the most dangerous and lethal creature in this realm." This was said with no small amount of gravity; and Sarah, after everything she had seen of him, didn't feel inclined to doubt his word on it. "I am the only one you have to be concerned about; everything else is taken care of."

"So I only have to worry about you wanting to eat me," she joked flippantly, before the double-entendre of her words sunk in. "Uh... I mean, haha, well you know what I mean..."

If he noticed the (Freudian?) slip, he apparently didn't feel the need to comment on it.

"It is important you understand that, while you remain under my protection, no other creature in this kingdom, or any other, has the authority to interfere with you." He spoke these words dispassionately, as though he were merely stating simple facts. "You must try to think of yourself as an honoured resident; no other humans live in my kingdom, so you are a rare, and therefore precious, commodity in the Underground."

Sarah took in this information, but decided it was probably time they addressed more practical matters. "Well, that's nice and everything, but more importantly, how does this 'precious commodity' get herself something to eat? I'm kinda hungry, actually. Being betrayed, drugged, kidnapped, thrown into a magical realm, and almost horrifically copy-catted, can apparently work up an appetite in a gal."

"Not to mention battling wits with a magnificent king."

"Oh no, that was nothing." She tossed back.

He grinned at that, seemingly unfazed by her continued impertinence. "Anything you need will be provided."

She looked down at her feet. "Including some shoes?"

"It will be seen to. We do have shoes in the Underground, you know," he said, delivered with just the right amount of deadpan.

"That's handy. Or, you know, footy." She smiled at her own joke, but from the inscrutable expression on the Goblin King's face, suddenly felt inordinately self-conscious. It amazed her that she had went from physically hitting this beguiling, terrifying man, to exchanging smart-assed banter with him. Nevertheless, it wasn't a comfortable banter; and Sarah still felt disconcerted enough to remain on alert. He was a dangerous man to become comfortable with.

"I should go now," and projected enough of a goodbye in it to clearly convey her intention of leaving.

Before she could turn to go, he remarked helpfully, "If you head in that general direction, you will come upon a rather lovely orchard. Most of the best fruit in the Underground is grown there."

"Thanks, but I'm sure I can manage on my own," she said, instinctively feeling the need to accentuate her independence and not rely too heavily on his assistance.

Sarah then resolutely turned from the Goblin King, to strike forth for herself in this unknown world. She had gone a few paces before she heard his quiet reply from behind her, "I'm sure you will. Farewell... precious."

_Oh hell no, if he thinks he's going to start calling me that..._

She spun around to affirm as much – only to discover that he had vanished into thin air, leaving her with the curious notion that she may possibly have imagined him altogether.

* * *

**AN**: 'Joanne' is actually the fake name I use if I get approached by a random guy who seems a bit dodgy (although, let's face it, if he looked anything like David Bowie, it probably wouldn't be an issue...)

For any sharp-eyed readers, you might have noticed that Jareth doesn't refer to his kingdom as 'the Labyrinth'. This is deliberate on my part, as I'm planning to have this aspect explained later on...

A wee review would be fabulous of you, darling :)


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